Down by the Water
by Cas-Wings
Summary: When Castiel loses his wife, supplies, livestock, and covered wagon to a botched river crossing, Dean offers him a deal. In exchange for his help on his ranch, Dean will provide Castiel with much needed room and board. But how will Castiel deal with this new place, this new job, this unknown man, as he moves through his grief? ((Set in the 1800's. AU.))
1. Loss

Castiel pulled the blue bandana up around his nose and mouth, protecting himself from the dry, choking dust from the wagons in front of him. Clicking his tongue, he snapped the reigns lightly, urging on the obviously tired and thirsty oxen before turning to his wife, who was seated next to him; it was far too hot to remain in the wagon, and the breeze out here was cooling when the dust settled. She looked worn out, sore from rattling around on a hard wooden bench for weeks, but her eyes remained bright with curiosity and hope.  
"Do you need any water?" Castiel called over the rustle and creaking of the wagons in front of and behind them.

Kate shook her head, smiling behind the handkerchief she used to protect her mouth and nose, the expression showing in her eyes. "I'll be fine for a bit, just hopin' we'll stop soon."

Castiel nodded and looked ahead through the thin cloud of dust, spotting a glimmer on the horizon. "I think we're in luck, we've reached a river. Should be stoppin' soon for a rest." He shielded his eyes against the sun, looking at the sky, seeing it was just barely noon. "It's too early to make camp, but we can have some dinner."

Kate nodded, looking to the river ahead as she felt her stomach growl. "Sounds like a plan."

They reached the river in just under fifteen minutes, parking their small train of six wagons in a semi circle facing the river.

Castiel removed his bandana and jumped off the tall wagon to help Kate down, earning him a grateful smile.

"Can I help ya with anything?" He asked, taking off his hat to fan himself in the shade of their wagon.

Kate chuckled lightly, shaking her head as she began the meal preparations. "I've got it, you go and rest."

Castiel smiled gently, watching her for a couple seconds as she got out a few biscuits and some jerky. She was graceful in even the simplest of tasks, beautiful even when she was covered in dust and grime, hair falling loosely from where she had pinned it up. How could he have gotten so lucky? With this thought, he smiled, love sick for his wife of three months, and gathered some water for his livestock, taking time to dampen the bandana around his neck with the icy chill.

The oxen drank thirstily, water mixing with frothy saliva as it dripped from their muzzles when they lifted their heads.

Giving them each a generous pat, Castiel went over to find makeshift sandwiches made for them. "Thank you." He said, drawling ever so slightly on the words as he settled onto the dry prairie grass next to Kate, back leaning against one of the wagon wheels. They ate in silence, enjoying the light, cool breeze off the river as children ran to stretch their legs from being seated for so long.

Kate smiled, violet eyes sparkling as she looked to him, causing love and adoration to well in Castiel's chest. Reaching over, the blue eyed man grabbed her small hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

"I love you." He said softly, thumb running over the slightly dry back of her hand, earning him another beautiful smile.

"I love you too."

Reaching over to cup her heat flushed cheek, Castiel felt the wheel shift slightly at his back, and turned around with a concerned glance, finding one of the spokes beginning to crack.

"What is it?" Kate asked, concern furrowing her slightly damp brow at the expression on his face.

Castiel frowned, sitting up to have a closer look at the problem. "The wood's rotting away." He replied, eyebrow creasing. This wagon didn't have many problems, but an extra wheel cost money and supplies they couldn't spare. Standing, he wiped at his mouth with the bandana that hung loosely from his neck. "I'm gonna go ask around camp, see if anyone has an extra they can spare.

Kate nodded, a look of empathy in her eye for the man who was working so hard to accommodate them. After a few minutes of cleaning, she sat wearily on the back of the wagon, shade cascading over her. It felt nice, to simply sit and rest, to simply know that the life she had chosen was a good one, with a good man. Looking up from her thoughts, Kate stood as Castiel approached, who walked up looking less stressed than before.

"The foreman says there's a town just beyond this river where we can get a wheel. It won't be cheap, but everyone says they're willing to pitch in a little money."

Kate felt a smile break on her lips, relief rushing through her. "Now that was nice of everyone. I'll have to make them all a nice breakfast tomorrow."

Castiel nodded, taking her small hand once more. "How did I get so lucky with someone like you?"

Kate shrugged, warmth flooding her chest at his soft blue eyes. "You were just yourself."

Castiel gave her a smile and chuckled lightly at how caught up in love he was with her, motioning her to look to the river. "We've got to cross this river today, shouldn't take more than an hour for all of us. Foreman's gonna check our wheel first, to make sure we're safe to go."

At this, Kate looked slightly worried, eyes flicking over to the less than calm water. "Couldn't we wait till the water's a little calmer?"

Castiel opened his mouth, but was cut off by the foreman who had arrived to inspect the wheel. "There's nothing to worry about, ma'am, I've crossed this river many times. This is actually calm for this one. Just gotta have a strong team of livestock, and a good wagon, which I'm sure you have both of."

Castiel's chest swelled ever so slightly with the compliment, as he had worked night and day to gather the funds for the best and safest possible necessities for this trip. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate that."

The foreman nodded, walking over to the wheel Castiel had motioned to earlier. Inspecting the crack, he prodded at the imperfection lightly with the toe of his boot. "Well, Mr. Novak, you should be fine, it's not too big of a crack, just make sure you get it fixed in the next town."

Castiel nodded, looking slightly apprehensive, but willing to trust the judgement of the man who had already made this trip three times. "Thank you."

The foreman nodded, whistling loudly to gather everyone's attention as he made his way back to his own wagon. "Alright, listen up folks! We're gonna cross this river one at a time in an orderly like fashion, just like the last river. Now, as we all know, it could get a little hairy out there, so just keep calm and moving if you get a little off course. Keep your eyes set on the bank ahead, and make sure all your possessions are tied down properly. I'll go first, you all follow on my count."

The camp all nodded in agreement, lining up their wagons to cross. Kate sat with Castiel up on the outside of the wagon, as it was the safest way to cross a river.

The first wagon made it across, with only a slight hitch and bump of the wagon, losing a pot to the fierce river. It went on like this for two more of the wagons, until it was the Novak's turn. Castiel smiled, squeezing Kate's hand once before he drove the team into the water, the cracked wheel a worry he pushed to the back of his mind, as the foreman said it would be okay for this crossing. However, when they were only halfway across the river, Castiel felt the wagon shift uneasily, a deathly crack thundering from under the water. Instantly, his stomach sank, knowing it was the wheel. With only half of the river keeping him from the bank, he drove the oxen harder, handing the reigns to a wide eyed and frightened Kate.

"I'm going to go down there and see if I can't support it for the rest of the way!" He shouted over the roar of the water, Kate not having a chance to respond before Castiel jumped down into the frigid, powerful water.

Keeping a strong hold on the wagon against the churning force of the liquid, Castiel ducked his head under water, visibility difficult with the white, churning foam of the rapids. When a break appeared to show the wheel, his stomach dropped at the sight: the wheel was completely cracked, and was about to move onto the damaged spot, about to break it down. As fast as he could through the water, though his movements were dulled by the density, he grabbed the spoke and attempted to support it, foot coming out in a panic to set it. His efforts, however, were wasted when the wheel turned once more, and collapsed, lurching the entire wagon to dip forward into the water before it began to tip on it's side. Castiel's eyes went wide in the seeming slow motion of the mishap, his grip being ripped from the wagon by the force of the heavy falling.

"Kate!" He cried out in panic when he resurfaced, the only word he was able to get out before being sucked under by the water flooding rapidly under the crashing and sinking wagon.

He struggled against the water, his inner ears being crushed with the weight, limbs going every direction, controlled by the relentless and merciless force of nature. He felt his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, and watched the wagon and livestock be swept away, watched various items float and rush around him, watched his vision tunnel black, turn to nothing. No sound, no sight, no feeling. In fact, the only thing he could recall feeling before the blackness was a hand grabbing frantically at his. Somehow, although extremely disoriented under the water, he could recognize the slender fingers, the gentle curve of the palm... Kate. It was the last time he felt her hand around his.

* * *

Castiel woke with a jolt on the other side of the river, sand and grass under his clutched fingers, sputtering water from his nose and mouth. Confused and lightheaded, he turned over on the bank and promptly threw up river water, coughing violently as he noticed the crowd of worried looking individuals around him.

"Mr. Novak, just try and breathe, we'll get you fixed up." The foreman said, stepping forward with a tone of urgency to his words.

Looking up from his position on the bank, Castiel picked up a shaky hand to wipe his dripping bangs from his stinging eyes, wincing when his hand found a large welt above his eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed harder, sitting up to get a handle on his breath out of instinct. Almost instantly, his eyes raked over the river, watching as a wheel floated by, one that held an all too familiar crack. Suddenly, it all came back, causing Castiel's face to go pale with panic and fear, the emotion urging him to stand. The sudden movement from his previously sitting position caused Castiel to throw up more water, which seemed like gallons as black spots danced in his vision. Wiping at his mouth, uncaring of his own physical state, Castiel turned his panicked sapphire eyes to the foreman, only one question on his mind.

"Where's Kate?"

The foreman's eyes went sullen, flicking up and down the rapid river once. "They haven't found her yet..." He informed, eyes trained on Castiel in detached sympathy.

Castiel, at the foreman's eye line, looked down the river too, disbelief welling in him. "No..." He said, unaware that the broken syllable had even slipped from his lips. "No, she has to be up river somewhere, must've swam up on the bank, she's strong, probably safe right now just waiting for us to come find her." The words came out in a jumbled mess, Castiel's discoordinated steps already stumbling through the sand, heading frantically down river.

The foreman stepped forward to put a steadying hand on Castiel's arm, who's head snapped up with panic filled features. "Mr. Novak, we already have teams of men down there searchin'... You need to sit down and rest, have someone take a proper look at you."

Castiel shook his head firmly at the words, tugging his arm away as worry induced tears stung the back of his eyes, made his head pain with the need to rescue his wife, ensure her safety. "No. I don't care about me right now, I care about my wife." He said firmly, voice almost breaking when he tugged away to head down the river, stubborn in his panic driven state.

"Mr. Novak, I won't let you go down ther-" The foreman started, words cut off when his sight was filled by a man in the distance, carrying the slumped and unmoving figure of a woman.

Castiel turned back to the foreman to refuse a final time, confused by the sudden halt in his words. At the halt of words and expression on the older man's face, Castiel's heart sank into the deep depths of his stomach, his own gaze turning slowly to be met by the heart wrenching sight. Instantly, his knees wavered beneath him, breath caught in an unreleased sob, shock overtaking his every emotion and physical feeling.

"Kate..." He whispered reverently, shock keeping his words and form from breaking as he broke into a run, each step bringing him closer to the sight of his worst nightmare, the sight of his reality. He reached the man who was carrying her, shocked tears blinding him at Kate's now pale face, blue lips, and sodden hair against her forehead.

"No!" He choked out, heaving her body from the other man's arms before collapsing to his knees, his wife's head falling back to expose her neck.

"No, please no..." He pleaded brokenly, hands fluttering in disbelief to her chest, which was still with lack of breath. At the fact he hadn't wanted to believe, never wanted to believe, Castiel's chest tightened with grief, sobs wracking his body as he cradled Kate's unmoving head against his chest.

* * *

It had been a day. They had reached the outskirts of the town they were heading for, Castiel riding with the foreman in his wagon. He had slept outside that night, on the ground, not wanting to invade anyone's space or comfort as he cried himself to sleep. It didn't seem real, all of it, especially the next day, the day they had designated for her burial. He woke with a jolt from his water filled nightmare, body feeling worn by the simple act of crying the night before. Getting up now even posed a difficulty through the grief, his every joint and muscle protesting at the movement off the hard ground.

"We've got a few more men from town," the foreman started as Castiel rolled up his blanket, "they've come to help us with the digging."

The words were like a punch to the gut, no matter how prepared he had been for them, for they were Castiel's reminder this wasn't a nightmare. Nodding, he looked over to a nearby tree where a group of about five men were starting to dig, their work lessened by the spring rain softened soil.

"So, I know this isn't what you wanna hear right now, but we're movin' on tomorrow..." The foreman said carefully, sentence trailing off as blue, pained eyes met his.

Castiel knew he had lost everything. All that he had worked two years for, his livestock, his supplies, his wagon, all of it was lost to the river, and there was no way he could possibly keep going with them. Looking to the town in the distance, he quickly worked out he would have to find some sort of job, live on the streets until he could find room and board... Until he could get another wagon and turn back home. "I'll be stayin' here." He informed, the foreman nodding in understanding. There was no way he could go on.

"I'll just come and get ya when they're done." The older man said, giving Castiel a cordial nod as he donned his hat once more, going to supervise the men.

Castiel sat heavily on the back of the foreman's wagon, a headache beginning to form at the back of his eyes. How could this have happened? Anger rose in him at the thought, his memory instantly picking up on the foreman telling him it would be okay, he had done this so many times before. Apparently not enough, for it had cost him his wife. Anger turning to bitter bile in the back of his throat, Castiel calmed his thoughts and put his head in his hands, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes, the scraping of shovels a constant, reminding sound in the distance.

It only took twenty minutes until the foreman came over to lead him to the site, only twenty minutes to dig his wife's final resting place.

After walking over, Castiel was instantly met by a crude, rectangle pine box, which Kate had already been sealed away in. Guarding himself from tears in front of the other men, Castiel gave a nod, signaling for the men to lower her into the deep ground.

"Would you like to say anything?" The foreman asked after a few minutes of deafening and uncomfortable silence, to which Castiel responded with a quick shake of his head. What there was to say, he wouldn't say in front of these strangers, especially in front of the man who gave him the green light for the river crossing. As the loose, dark dirt was heaped upon the light wood, the crowd of people began to thin, leaving Castiel with sympathetic glances and murmurs of apologies they didn't mean. Nodding to each of them, he was soon left to watch the dirt being piled upon the coffin, piled upon his wife. At the thought, tears sprung in his eyes, and Castiel instantly turned and walked from the working men, returning to his previous spot on the foreman's sedentary wagon. He cried alone for a long while, silent sobs wracking his shoulders as he held a hand over his eyes to conceal the weak act, men weren't supposed to cry. Gathering his breath, he stared at the cracked ground and tried to get a hold of himself, his vision of the dirt soon concealed by a pair of boots. Wiping his eyes quickly, Castiel looked up and into the face of an unknown man, which held green eyes, short, light brown hair, and full lips. It took him a moment, but he soon realized he was one of the men who had dug the grave.

The man looked sympathetic towards him, but not in the usual manner. He didn't seem to be piteous, instead he seemed to be truly sorry for what had happened. Taking off his hat, the stranger held out his hand, which Castiel took. "Howdy. I'm Dean Winchester." He greeted, voice softer around the edges than most, a slight, deep drawl to his words.

Castiel took his hand and shook it firmly, masking his face of emotion. "Castiel Novak."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment of his name, removing his hand from the other's grip politely. "I know I may be out of place here..." He said, eyes flicking down to his boots for half a second in hesitation. "But I asked the foreman if you was gonna on with the group, and seeing as you aren't," he cleared his throat, trying to gauge Castiel's facial expressions, which remained blank, "I was wonderin' if you needed a job. I have a farm a couple miles outside of town, and I need help. I can't afford to pay anyone, though, and seeing your circumstances, I wanted to offer you a deal."

At his words, Castiel felt himself get defensive and prideful, but forced himself to consider the opportunity; he didn't even know if there were other available jobs in town. "What's the deal?"

"Well, there are no rooms or jobs in town, and the way I figure it, we are both in need right now. So, what I'm offerin' is if I give you livin' space in my house, you help me with the work on my ranch. I don't have a wife, so I would need some help inside as well with the cookin' and cleanin'..." He informed further, fingers playing idily with the hat in his hands, hoping it didn't sound as if he was offering up charity.

Castiel was quiet for a long while, simply considering the offer. He had nowhere to go, no job to fill, and worse still, he had lost everything. He was a broken man with nothing left. Sucking up his pride, he held out his hand to the stranger to shake. "Deal."

Dean took the other man's hand once more, face almost breaking into a relieved grin before he remembered the circumstances of the deal. "Good. We can go now, if ya like. I brought my wagon today, it shouldn't take us but an hour to get back."

Castiel nodded, pushing down the emotion that welled in his chest, the slight panic at everything new that was piling up on top of him. After a moment, he stood on rubbery legs, made his way to the wagon, and climbed up next to the stranger to head for the unknown place.


	2. Day One

It didn't take long, the ride to Dean's land. It was a fairly smooth wagon, only hitching once or twice on the rough ground as Castiel stared emptily out onto the passing prairie. Dean had opened his mouth to start a conversation a few times, but stopped himself when he caught sight of the other man's face. Empty grief colored the slight lines on his face, giving him the appearance of age and sorrow, although he was young. So, Dean simply faced the road and clicked his tongue at the horses, his encouragement of the animal's pace the only sound breaking the silence that enveloped the two.

"This is it." Dean said, clearing his throat of all the silence it had held before as they pulled onto his property.

At Dean's sudden words, Castiel raised his blue eyes from the grass covered ground to look ahead. His gaze instantly swept across the land, taking everything from the large willow trees surrounding the simple wooden house, to the small, sloped hill in the back, leading down to unseen land.

"It's beautiful." He said softly, voice low and scratchy from the crying and silence, not even aware the quiet words slipped past his lips.

Dean smiled slightly, eyes flicking quickly over the property he was familiar with. "Yeah, it works." He replied with a shrug, internally appreciating the comment on the land he had worked so hard to build up. "Let's get inside then."

Castiel nodded, slightly embarrassed by his own mouth, which never seemed to filter his innermost thoughts. Standing, still stiff and sore, he jumped from the wagon, ignoring his body's protest at the actions. Following Dean, he focused on the slight scuff of their boots against the ground, focused on anything to keep him from thinking back to Kate. This grief was his to bear, and he would be damned if he looked weak in front of anybody else... He had been humiliated enough. Focusing back into reality from his stubborn thoughts as they entered the house, Castiel's sight was filled by a well lit, spacious front room. A stove sat in one corner with a small table, a few dishes and cooking utensils scattering the counters, which tapered off to lead to a small sitting area in the middle of the room.

"My room is off to the side here," Dean started, stepping forward with a gesture at a doorway that lay to the side of them, "and your room is right next to it. Used to be the dining room, but I figured since I would be hirin' people, they would need somewhere to live." He finished, stepping aside to let Castiel see his room, which held a simple bed, desk, and dresser.

"Thank you." Castiel drew softly, the bed suddenly looking tempting.

Almost as if he could pick up on Castiel's thoughts, Dean motioned to the front door. "Well, I've gotta go unhitch the horses and bring in the cow, won't take me but half an hour. You can go ahead and get some rest, and when I get back we can go through your job duties."

Castiel hesitated for a moment, not wanting to seem useless and lazy, but fatigue soon won over his choice. "Thank you." He said again with a slight smile, feet leading him into the room before Dean even left the house. He knew his silence and downcast gaze seemed weak, made him seem like a woman, but he just couldn't help it... He had lost everything, how could anyone expect him to be strong after that? Sighing out into the quiet room, he removed his boots and settled over the comforter, knowing the afternoon would soon rise in temperature. Instantly, he sunk back into the pillows, much needed sleep taking over his beaten and battered body before he could form another thought.

It didn't take Dean long to put away the wagon; unhitching the horses was a breeze, as they were calm animals, and listened more often than not. Grabbing a brush off it's place hanging from a nearby nail on the wall, Dean brushed long, smooth swipes into their coats, ensuring they were cared for and comfortable before he pitched some hay into the troughs.

"Good girls." He drew softly, giving their necks a hearty pat as he checked to make sure everything in the barn was in order. Satisfied, he began his walk out to the cow pasture, noticing his muscles growing weary. He guessed it was due to the extra work he put in today. The thought brought sympathy and just a twinge of sadness to Dean's chest as he recalled the broken and battered look on the man's- Castiel's- face when he saw the grave they had dug. In all of Dean's life, he couldn't recall seeing anyone as empty and lost as Castiel did earlier, how grief stricken he was when he finally turned away from the grave. Sighing, Dean clucked his tongue at the young Jersey cow, who followed him back to the barn with a docile and meandering gait: she knew her schedule. Smiling slightly, Dean gave her muzzle a rub and bent to check her udders, which by the looks of it would be full in the morning.

"You better start producin' more milk, or I'm gonna have to trade you in." Dean said to the animal, who simply gazed at him with big, shining black eyes for a moment before settling in a shady corner of the barn.

Shaking his head, Dean dipped his hands into a nearby water pail to rinse them of the dirt, wiping the damp coolness on his jeans during his walk back to the house. Entering the cooler house after a few minutes, Dean headed for Castiel's room.

"Castiel?" He called, stopping when he looked up to see the other man sound asleep, face gone of all previous grief lines. Silencing his footsteps and words, Dean closed his door with the decision they could always start tomorrow. Besides, a good nights sleep meant good, quality work. Stepping out into the main room, Dean sat heavily in the creaking rocking chair to remove his dirty boots before settling back. Running a calloused hand over his weary face, his thoughts turned to the man he had hired. He was trying so hard to be so strong, he didn't want to be seen as weak, and it was sad. Simply thinking about the broken look in the other man's eyes when they first met his twisted Dean's stomach into a sympathetic knot. He was so broken, so grief filled, Dean only hoped he could help him, for his heart went out to the man. Rubbing the back of his slightly sun burnt neck, Dean heaved himself from the chair and made his way to his bed, which was empty as always. If he was completely honest with himself, he would admit that he was, however selfish it was, glad that Castiel ended up here, for he was tired of coming home to an empty house, tired of eating alone, tired of being lonely. Maybe now, he could have a friend.

* * *

Castiel woke two hours before sunrise, as he always had. It took a moment, a moment of peace and serenity, before he realized where he was, and why. The realization dug the existing knife deeper into his chest, and left him wondering how long it would take for the accident to register in his mind. Stopping his thoughts as his eyes searched the room for a match, he recalled Dean telling him yesterday he would go over jobs when he got back from putting the horses away.

"Damn it..." Castiel muttered lowly, stomach sinking. Only a day with this job, and already he seemed like a lazy slacker. Finding a match on the nearby dresser, Castiel struck it and lit a candle, not bothering to wash his face before he entered the main room, nearly tripping over the unfamiliar furniture as the small candle barely lit his way. Looking around, he tried to figure a way to be useful, to show he wasn't useless like he seemed yesterday. Maybe he could make breakfast... As soon as the thought entered his mind, he set about it, determined to pull his weight in the deal he had made. Running a hand over his tired face, he knelt to open the belly of the stove and light what wood was left, hoping it would be enough for the preparation.

"Guess I should start with some coffee..." He muttered quietly to himself, eyes flicking over each cupboard and drawer in searching.

After a few moments, Castiel spotted a few dark, familiar grounds below a middle cupboard, and figured that was his best guess. Quietly, he made his way over and opened the door, spotting a bag of ground coffee instantly. Muttering a thanks under his breath to no one in particular, Castiel looked around once more and found what looked to be a tea pot. It would do. Shrugging, he set the two items in front of him, at a loss of what to do; he had never made coffee before. Looking out the window, Castiel spotted a water pump in the yard, which was barely visible in the early dusk lighting. Poking the fire to keep it going while he was out, he exited out the back door and headed towards the water pump. Suddenly as he walked, a shrill bark broke the silence of morning, followed by something large and slobbering knocking him to the dry ground.

"What in the hell?" Castiel nearly shouted, shoving the thing off him as he reoriented himself. Sitting up in a state of panic at the attack, his gaze was filled by a large, slobbering dog, who looked happy as could be. Scowling, the blue eyed man got himself up from the ground and dusted off, pushing the diligent animal away from his side when it followed him and tried to lick at his hand.

"Damn dog, nearly scared the life out of me." Castiel muttered grumpily as he pumped water into the available bucket that sat near. Trekking back to the house was a bit difficult due to the heaviness of the pail, but he made it nonetheless, and soon found himself ladling water into the kettle to start the coffee he wasn't completely sure how to make. Staring blankly at the taunting bag full of grounds, he silently wished it would simply tell him what to do instead of just sitting there. Sighing heavily, he scooped out some of the grounds and added them to the water, stirring it for good measure before he set it in the middle of the hot stove.

Satisfied with his accomplishment of the beverage, Castiel began to open cupboards and drawers, searching for something, anything he could use for some sort of breakfast. After a while, he had pulled out what was labeled flour, sugar, and baking powder. Pancakes, simple and easy. He had seen Kate make them so many times before, how hard could it be? Trying to remember what she had put in, Castiel's heart sunk at the memories of her in the kitchen, flour on her cheek where she had rubbed. Banishing the thoughts instantly to focus on the recipe and his new job, Castiel put two handfuls of flour in a bowl, along with a handful of sugar and a pinch of baking power. The mixture seemed right, so, in an attempt to make it work, Castiel added a ladle full of water and began to mix. After a few helpless minutes of mixing and adding water, he came up with a gloppy looking paste. Frustrated at his lack of knowledge, he pulled out a pan and set it roughly on the stove, adding a scoop of batter straight away. He stood for a few minutes, watching the lumpy mixture for any signs of doneness. After what he felt was enough time, Castiel placed his spatula at the edge of the cake and attempted to flip it, finding it stuck.

"Damn it..." He muttered, forcing the utensil under the food until he could properly flip it. Looking at the result, his stomach sank at the sight of the half burnt, ripped up _thing_ staring back at him from the pan. Frustrated to the point where he felt anger boiling inside of him, Castiel forced the now done cake up from the pan, relived to see the flip side brown instead of black, although it was still torn. Setting the failure on the plate beside him with a groan, he turned back to the bowl and added another scoop of batter to the hot pan. Maybe now he knew how long to cook them for, it wouldn't be so terrible. Watching carefully again, he attempted to flip the second try after counting two minutes, finding it stuck once more.

"What the hell am I doin' wrong?" He whispered quietly to himself in frustration, forcing the second cake up from the pan to flip it. Thankfully, the second one turned out brown and a bit torn, not as bad as the first. Slightly more satisfied with his efforts, Castiel used this method again and again on the small amount of batter left, ending up with a dozen pitiful looking pancakes to show for his effort. Chest swelling with slight pride at the sight of what he had accomplished, his mind turned to place settings, and he quickly got down plates, suspecting his boss would be up soon. Turning his back for a second to set the plates on the small table, Castiel jumped at the sudden sound of sizzling, whipping around to find, in horror, the coffee kettle boiling over and splashing everywhere. Panic rising in him at the smoke the beverage was producing off the stove, Castiel rushed over to and grabbed for the kettle. In too much of a rush to think, he wrapped his entire hand around the now scalding handle without a towel, burning himself.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed loudly, hand yanking back in pain as the coffee helplessly boiled over. He wasn't used to using such strong language, but that had _hurt_.

It was at this exact time Dean rushed from his bedroom at the commotion, shirt half tucked into his pants, eyes watering from the smoke filling the small cabin. Watching as Castiel burnt himself, as the coffee boiled over, Dean rushed over and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around the handle of the kettle to move it to the cool back of the stove. Acting quickly, he wiped away the coffee ground filled water that sat sizzling on the stove top, and set the rag aside to tend to Castiel.

"Are you alright?" He asked quickly, concern in his tone for the new worker.

Castiel's face burned more than his hand in embarrassment as he stood in front of Dean, eyes coming up to look at the scene. Coffee and smoke was everywhere, some of it even ending up on the pancakes he had worked so hard on. Frustrated to the near point of tears, he pushed away the familiar burn at the back of his eyes and shook his head, answering with a gruff yes. He would not tear up simply because of a botched meal.

Dean's brows knitted together in sympathy at the hopeless look on the other man's face, and motioned to the bucket of water. "Come on, you should rinse that off."

A few minutes of embarrassing explanation later, Castiel stood in front of the stove with a carefully wrapped towel around his burnt palm, feeling pitiful in his attempts at being useful.

Dean, with sympathy for the other man, quickly got down cups, silverware, and a jar of syrup. "Come on, it's not all lost. We can still eat." He reassured.

Castiel nodded and kept his head held high, knowing he had looked weak before. "Here, I'll get this you sit down." He said quickly, hoping he had proved he was at least willing to work.

Dean nodded, seeing Castiel didn't want anymore help. Setting the syrup down on the table, Dean sat and watched intently as Castiel served the torn up and lumpy looking pancakes, bringing the coffee next. Dean held out his cup for the other man as he poured the grainy looking coffee, sheer embarrassment on his features.

"This looks great, thank you." Dean said, sincerity in his tone as he poured sugar into the grounds floating in watery looking coffee. He admired that Castiel had tried, and knew instantly he was a hard worker.

Castiel managed a small smile to the thanks and sat at the table next to Dean, scooping up a pancake to place on his plate. Dean did the same, and added syrup before offering the sweet condiment to Castiel, who took it graciously to pour over his breakfast. Carefully, the blue eyed man cut into his meal, finding it tough to do. Worry rising at the simple resistance the cake offered to his knife, he slowly brought the bite up to his mouth, and bit into possibly the driest, most flour clumped, bland pancake he had ever eaten. Failure and disappointment rising in his gut, Castiel didn't look up to the other man, and instead poured himself some coffee, finding it watery and filled with grounds when he tried to wash down the horrible pancake. Face burning again in embarrassment, Castiel finished his meal as quickly as he could.

"This isn't bad." Dean said with a smile, lying just a bit. The poor man had been through enough this morning without criticism to add upon it, so Dean powered through the lumpy meal with compliments, even taking an extra pancake. Finishing in just a few short minutes, he sat back in his chair and patted his stomach, giving Castiel a slight smile. "That was good, thank you."

Castiel nodded, recognizing the lie but not calling him on it. "You're welcome." He said, voice rough and defeated as he cleared their plates.

Dean got up to help, and soon had the mess of the meal cleared, save for the dishes that needed to be done. "I've got to go and milk the cow, so you can go ahead and do the dishes in the leftover water." Dean explained, knowing Castiel didn't want to be treated like a child when it came to the work.

Nodding, Castiel met Dean's eyes for just a moment, finding comforting sincerity in them. Muttering a sincere thank you, Castiel turned to do the dishes, recalling the kind and forgiving manner Dean had about him this morning, despite the mess in the kitchen. Maybe this wouldn't be completely horrible...


	3. Splinters

The dishes didn't take long, although the soap stung the red, angry burn on his palm. Pushing through the pain, Castiel wiped his hands on his jeans, careful to blot the injury dry before sitting at the small table next to the stove, sighing. This morning had been a disaster, and instead of proving he was a hard worker, he proved he was incompetent to one of the major tasks Dean had assigned him in their deal. Although he had seemed grateful, Castiel suspected he was just being nice, out of sympathy for his situation.

Putting his head in his hands, Castiel banished the self piteous thoughts from his head and instead turned his mind to what he had been avoiding: Kate's parents, his parents. He needed to contact them, needed to send at the very least a simple telegram informing them of what had happened, and when he would be back. That is, if he could even get back, because right now, the possibility was out of the question. Feeling a familiar burn at the back of his eyes, Castiel wiped angrily at them, frustration welling in him with the fact he couldn't seem to control his grief or thoughts as of the past two days. Hearing the door open, he looked up to see Dean filling the doorway, a soft, understanding expression on his face; he must have noticed the tears in his eyes. Embarrassed, Castiel instantly put on a straight face, meeting the other man's eyes in an act of respect and strength, proving he wasn't as weak and quivering as he had seemed lately.

"Howdy." Dean greeted, removing his hat to hang it on the peg sitting just inside the house as he closed the door.

Castiel nodded in greeting, watching his hat swing ever so slightly where it hung. "Howdy." He replied, a slight drawl to his voice with the simple word.

Sitting down at the table, Dean slipped himself into a business like mode, knowing Castiel wouldn't want to be coddled into this new job, it would be best to come across as leader, an employer, not a sympathetic friend. "Alright. I've checked around the farm, and have a couple a jobs you can do daily, along with some stuff I need help with today."

Castiel nodded and focused on the other man's words, focused on anything other than why he was here.

"Since I work outside most of the time," Dean continued at the silent acknowledgment, "I'm gonna have you workin' in here, cooking and cleanin' mostly. Shouldn't take you long, this place is so small." He said, looking around for a moment before returning his gaze to Castiel. "In addition, you'll be feeding the chickens, milking the cow, and watering all the animals daily. You can find me around most days, unless I've gone into town. I'll mostly be workin' the wheat field out back, going into town to buy and sell seed, or finishing the new chicken coop I'm building. Does everything sound alright?"

Castiel nodded once more, grateful for the way Dean was treating him. "Yeah, that all sounds good." He was a bit worried about the cooking part, but was sure he would pick up on the task soon enough, and was appreciative of the decent workload he was provided. He wanted to pull his weight, especially with Dean's generous and kind offer.

"Alright then." Dean said, getting up with a slight stretch of his tight muscles. "Let's get a move on, I'll show you around before we get to work with a fence I need help repairin'."

"Sounds good." Castiel replied quickly, excusing himself from the room for a moment to get his hat off the bedside table where he had left it. Swiping his fingers along the brim of it, he smiled at the memory of Kate adjusting his hat, the recollection digging a painful longing into his chest. Shaking his head, he donned the accessory and adjusted it by himself this time, shoving away the emotions to focus on work. If he focused on work, the grief would be easier to move through, as he wouldn't be wallowing in sorrow all day. Putting on a neutral, open face, Castiel met Dean outside and began to follow him when he started heading down a small dirt walk.

"This path leads right on down to the barn." Dean explained, entering the slightly cooler, hay filled barn, met by a whinny of one of the horses and a docile glance from the young Jersey cow. Making his way to the bovine's pen, Dean clicked his tongue, causing her to amble over in obedience. "This here is Sunshine." He introduced. "She's real good about milking, and if you treat her gently, she'll be a loyal companion in no time for your mornings."

Castiel listened carefully, smiling ever so slightly as the cow curiously sniffed at him and rubbed her large, damp snout against his palm. Despite being raised to consider animals tools for work, and nothing more, Castiel often found himself growing soft spots for the creatures, always felt calm and happy around them. "Hey, Sunshine." He drew under his breath, giving her a pat on the muzzle before moving onto the horses with Dean.

Dean's posture and demeanor softened slightly when he saw the gentle treatment the young dairy cow got from Castiel, knowing she was in good hands to be cared for as he lead the other to the horses. His boss like demeanor softened as he stroked the velvety muzzle of the horse, putting a hand under the equine's whisker filled chin to show him to Castiel. "This is Buck," Dean started, glancing back to where the other horse stayed stubbornly in the back of the pen, "and that's Dan. They're good most of the time, you just gotta watch for their temper. Don't wanna get caught underfoot when they get moody." He finished with a slight air of humor, leading Castiel from the barm out to the field when the same dog from earlier ran up, nearly knocking the blue eyed man over for a second time.

"Woah, hey now." Dean said with a chuckle, pulling the hyper animal off of Castiel. "Sorry about that, he gets a little excited towards newcomers." He explained, patting the happy looking animal's head.

"Yeah, we met this mornin'." Castiel replied, thinking back to how he had raised his voice in frustration to the dog.

"I hope he didn't cause ya too much trouble, then." Dean replied, smiling as he scratched the dog behind it's floppy ear. "This is Henry."

Castiel stepped forward to give the dog a pat on the head, a silent apology for his treatment this morning, which earned him another sloppy lick on his palm.

"If he ever gets too excited, just push him off, he won't mind." Dean explained, not knowing Castiel had already done so as he continued showing him around, Henry bouncing at their heels the rest of the way.

The remainder of the informal tour didn't take long. Although Dean's property was sizable, he made his explanation of each stop short, only including the details that counted. Soon, Castiel found them both in front of a mangled looking fence, the wood split completely in two in some places, beginning to crack in others.

"As you can see," Dean started, moving forward to motion at the fence, "it's in pretty bad shape. I had a bull in here a couple weeks ago, and was planning to breed him with Sunshine." He shrugged, eyes flicking to the small pasture enclosed in the fence. "Guess he had other ideas, cause he tried to bust through this fence before the wrangler got a hold of him."

"I'm guessing you didn't breed her that day, then?" Castiel responded, attempting at some sort of friendly comment rather than the silent nod he had kept the majority of the tour.

Dean smiled slightly, picking up a hammer, wood, and nails that were lying at the base of the fence. "No, I decided to hold off 'till next spring, there'll probably be better selection then. Anyhow, I'd been meaning to get to this fence, but haven't had a chance 'till today. You work good with a hammer?"

Castiel nodded, mind switching back to when he was a young boy, building a small barn with his father. "Yeah, I've done my share of carpentry." He replied, taking the hammer and nails he was offered at his answer.

"Good." Dean praised with a smile, tugging off the loose, broken boards. "I'm just gonna hold a fresh board in place, and you go ahead and knock it in. Sound like a plan?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine." Castiel answered, kneeling next to Dean to hammer the first nail into the bottom end of the board.

Throughout the efficient work, Castiel found himself slipping into a forgetting state of mind, his grief pushed to the side with the focused task. Although he had only been here a little under a day, he already was beginning to enjoy Dean's company, enjoy the soft spoken manner in which he treated him as an equal, treated him with kindness and respect. Although he would never state it out loud, not now at least, Castiel internally appreciated the way Dean dealt with him and his mistakes thus far, with patience and understanding.

"That's the last of 'em." Dean said, breaking Castiel from his thoughts.

Castiel let out a breath, getting off the dusty ground to wipe at his damp neck with the already dirty bandanna that still hung around his neck, a splinter further digging it's bothersome way into his thumb as it rubbed against the material. "Is there anything else I can do? I could start cleanin' the house, if ya like." He offered, wiping his brow of the sweat that threatened to drip into his blue eyes.

Dean shook his head, looking towards the house in momentary thought. "Actually, I was plannin' on heading into town today, I'm a bit short on supplies. I'm gonna need some help loading everything into the wagon, so I wouldn't mind if you came along."

Castiel smiled and nodded, eager for the chance to see the town, get some new clothing, and, as sad as the task was, send a telegram to Katie's parents. That was, until he remembered he didn't have a cent, and couldn't do any of those things, not even the telegram, which he was sure only cost a few pennies. Although he didn't mean to show it, his face fell for a moment with the thought while they walked to the barn to get the wagon.

Noticing the disheartened look, Dean's brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything alright, Cas?" Instantly, Dean clamped his mouth shut, instantly recognizing the foreign nickname that has slipped so easily from his lips.

Luckily, it didn't seem to effect Castiel as he shrugged, suddenly avoiding his gaze. "Oh, it's nothin'." He said quickly, not wanting to reel off a sob story to take advantage of the kindness he knew Dean held in his heart.

Dean was silent for a long while, harnessing Dan while Castiel worked on Buck. Suspecting his saddened look had to do with something in town, Dean looked to him. "You know, I was thinkin' you might need some new clothes. I just ordered some for myself, for next spring, but you can have 'em now, they should fit right."

Castiel's head nearly snapped up at the offer, eyes widening as he shook his head in rejection. "Dean," He started, using the other's name for the first time, "I can't just take your clothes."

Dean busied himself with connecting the wagon up the the horse's harnesses, trying to play off what he knew Castiel considered charity. "It's fine, besides, our deal was if you came to work for me, I provide you with what you need. You can't possibly expect to go around in just those clothes this whole time, do ya?"

Castiel hesitated, looking down to his grimy clothing. "No..." He replied hesitantly, heart sinking at the fact he would have to accept the humiliating gift. He was grateful, but the fact he couldn't even manage to clothe himself, that his boss had to do it, was like a punch to the gut; he was usually such a self sufficient man. Climbing into the wagon next to Dean, he forced his head to stay high despite the charity he felt he was accepting.

"Thank you." He said softly after a moment, truly grateful for the selfless gift he knew he needed.

Dean smiled at the thanks, turning to face Castiel. "Hey, all part of the deal. Besides, workin' in old, torn up clothes does nothing but get a man more bruises and splinters than he knows what to do with."

Castiel chuckled softly at the comment, nodding in agreement as he absentmindedly picked at the large splinter in his thumb, which had become an irritating nuisance. "You got me there." He replied, feeling less embarrassed at accepting the gift, due to Dean's quick and light humor.

"Looks like you already got a splinter. Guess we're gettin' these clothes just in time, huh?"

Castiel shrugged, the slight smile not leaving his face at the other's comment. "Yeah, I guess so. Little bastard just won't get outta there." He mumbled, eyes focusing in on the small, sharp piece of wood in his hand. Suddenly, his finger slipped from his vision, and he looked up to find Dean tugging it away to inspect his thumb.

"Here, let me help." Dean said, unaware of what he was doing before he was grabbing Castiel's hand to remove the splinter, gently ridding the discomfort. Realizing an instant too late that he had just invaded Castiel's personal boundary with no second thought, Dean released his hand as if it were a hot iron. Looking up, Dean met the slightly shocked blue eyes of the other, a horrified feeling rising in his gut as his heart pounded. He just took a splinter out of another man's hand without another thought at the closeness, and frankly, it was strange. He was lonely for a friend, but Dean didn't consider himself lonely enough to simply take the hand of a man he just met, and remove a splinter from it. The close contact was odd to him, puzzling, and he instantly cleared his throat and turned away. "Anyway, they're pretty easy to get out if you work 'em right." He mumbled, face reddening as he flicked the reigns over the horses to get them moving.

Castiel suddenly found himself in frank eye contact with Dean, who had just grabbed his hand out of the blue and solved his splinter problem. Seeing the uncomfortable and realizing look on Dean's face, he coughed to break the silence and turned back when Dean did, puzzled at why on earth the other would find it so easy to come in physical contact as they rode out into the daylight. Shaking his head, Castiel banished the thoughts, assuming Dean was just being as nice as he had been since he arrived. Besides, it was just a splinter removal. If they ignored what had happened, the thick air would dissipate, and give way once more to the light, comfortable silence they had most of the day. Both thinking along the same lines of ignoring the strangely personal eye contact, they rode in silence, the only sound surrounding them the consistent jingle of the horse's harnesses.

Despite the recent, uncomfortable situation, Dean leaned back into the seat contentedly, beginning to enjoy Castiel's quiet accompaniment to his normally lonely days. He listened well, worked hard, and didn't have an ounce of selfishness in his body... He would fit perfectly on the farm.


	4. Telegram

The ride into town only took about an hour, although it seemed longer due to the hot sun and sticky air that stifled the two. When they arrived, Castiel had a chance to look at the small town in more detail than before, and took the simple shops lining a boardwalk, which couldn't have stretched more than two hundred feet both ways.

"This is it." Dean said, breaking the silence between them as he parked the wagon near the general store.

Castiel's eyes continued to search around the new area, taking in all the stores and items to buy. "It seems nice."

Dean smiled, nodding as he took his hat off momentarily to wipe at the sweat that threatened to drip into his eyes. "Yeah, it works. We shouldn't be here for more than a half hour." He paused for a moment, reaching into his jean pocket. "In fact, I picked up a little extra cash the other day. Why don't you go buy what ya need?"

Castiel looked at the dusty coins in Dean's outstretched hand, shame clawing it's humiliating way into his thoughts. "Oh no, Dean I can't take that. It's your money."

Dean smiled, nodding. "Yeah, it's my money, and I'll do what I want with it. And I wanna give it to you. Come on, you must have something to do with it." He persuaded softly.

At his words, Castiel's thoughts turned to the telegram he needed to send, and reluctantly took the money. "Thank you, Dean."

Dean put up his hand in a wave of dismissal as he tethered the horses. "It's no problem, besides, you've done a good job so far. I can tell you'll be a hard worker." He replied with another smile, motioning towards a store that stood a couple of feet away. "I've gotta go get some feed and pick up the clothes. Why don't ya meet me back here in a bit?"

Castiel felt a humble blush creep up the very back of his neck at the compliment, but pushed it down to listen to Dean's next words. "Yeah, that sounds fine." He answered, watching Dean turn and leave before he turned to the town. Unsure of where to start, he slowly began walking down a relatively empty side of the street, eyes flicking around the new place to find his way. It didn't take long for him to spot the telegraph wire trailing from a nearby building, his fingers fiddling with the small amount of change in his pocket as he approached and entered the slightly cooler building.

Dean headed back to the wagon slowly, arms full of the items he bought. Hefting the heavy feed bags onto the back of the worn wagon, he wiped at his damp face with the crimson bandana that hung around his neck, and placed the brown paper wrapped clothing on top of the feed bags. Looking up, he saw Castiel heading towards the wagon.

"Find everything okay?" He called as the other was walking up, seeing he had no bought items in his hands.

"Yeah, thank you." Castiel replied, eyes flicking over the full wagon. "Are you ready?"

"Yep, got everything I needed. Let's get a move on." With this, Dean climbed into the wagon, Castiel not far behind before he snapped the reigns to head out. Looking to the other's face, he hesitated, curiosity overtaking him after a moment. "Didn't find anything to buy?"

Castiel tensed up ever so slightly at the words, but shrugged, playing off the tense look he knew he must've had on his face. "I did. Just sent a telegram back home is all."

Dean's stomach sank at his response. "Oh." He sat in silence for a while, contemplating his next words carefully. "Ya know, if ya ever need someone to talk to, I'm always here."

Normally, Dean wouldn't dream of extending his comfort to someone he had just met, especially a man, but there was something so sad and broken about Castiel that Dean would be remissed if he didn't extend some form of support.

Castiel hesitated at Dean's offer, not being one to simply open up and let it all out, but now, on the brink of collapsing under the weight of his own emotion, he decided it would be best to talk. "She was the first girl I ever loved." He said abruptly, eyes trained on his hands.

Dean was surprised at the sudden uptake of his offer, but nodded in understanding and waited for Castiel's next words, deciding it best to just let the other man speak.

"We just sorta fell in love with each other, and decided to move west. More opportunities, more money, a better place to raise a family... It was just everything me and her wanted." Castiel paused for a moment, his accent becoming more prominent as he talked of his past. "Her parents were against it, they had always planned for her to stay and inherit their farm." He shrugged, fighting back the slight tremble in his voice, the urge to shut his mouth and not share the weak and emotional memories he was having. "But she insisted upon going, and eventually they supported her." He smiled slightly. "They were such nice people, took me in when I didn't have anyone else. So we said our goodbyes, and went our own way." He paused and looked to Dean, half expecting him to be laughing at the vulnerability he was showing. But, instead, Castiel simply saw the man was listening, open honesty shining in his eyes, along with something else, something that somehow reaffirmed his earlier promise: he would be there. Feeling better about sharing, Castiel took a deep breath and went on, figuring there was no going back now. "I sent them a telegram back there, just tellin' em what happened, tellin' em I was sorry to be so careless." He looked down to his hands, feeling the story was summed up enough for the time being.

Dean nodded after a while, wanting to stay open and understanding. "Well, at least they know now. I'm sure they don't blame you." He said softly.

"Yeah, they deserve to know..." Castiel replied, voice wavering just slightly. "I just don't know about the blamin' part." He finished, guild washing over him.

There was silence for a long while, the creak of the wheels the only sound between them until Dean broke the quiet air. "They seem like good people, I'm sure they'll be understanding."

Castiel simply shrugged, looking up to see they were back at the farm. Collecting himself and pushing away the anger towards himself for being so sissy about the whole thing, he climbed from the wagon. "Do you need me to bring in anything?"

Dean stayed at the reins in the wagon, looking behind him to think for a moment before answering. "Just grab the clothes, I'll take the feedbags to the barn and unhitch the horses. Meet you inside in a bit."

Instantly obeying the request, Castiel grabbed the brown paper wrapped garments from the back. "Sounds like a plan." He responded, heading for the small house as Dean clicked his tongue and urged the horses on. Opening the door, Castiel set the clothing on the kitchen table and sat at a nearby chair, finally able to be alone and collect his thoughts. How could he have just shared all of that with the other man, who was nearly a stranger? He probably thought he was a pansy, probably thought he couldn't keep himself together, couldn't push his problems aside for the betterment of work. Sighing shakily, Castiel forced the anger he felt towards himself away, and let the tears that had been fighting out. No man should ever have to lose the woman he loves, especially so soon. She was so young, so in love, and all of that had been taken from her, by a simple wagon malfunction, one that Castiel had cockily overlooked. Guilt washing over him, he buried his damn face in his hands and let out a choked sob, his shoulders shaking with the effort to simply breath through his grief.

Dean headed back towards the house, strides quick and purposeful as he walked. Reaching the half open door, his movement was stopped when he heard a shaky breath come from inside the cabin. Stomach dropping at the human sound he knew too well, he glanced in, curiosity overtaking him. However, the sight that filled his vision was not one he ever wished to see. Castiel sat at the table, face twisted in grief and buried in his hands, shoulders shaking with quieted sobs. Small whimpers escaped his lips with the impact of his tears, the grief and guilt nearly visible around him in a dark cloud.

Pained at the sight, Dean stepped back from his viewpoint and sunk down to sit on the ground, back resting against the outer wall of his home. Although he didn't quite know why, his heart went out for Castiel, it ached for him. He was in the prime of his life, and now had to deal with this pain. He probably felt so alone. Sympathy causing his own eyes to sting, Dean took a deep, slow breath and collected himself, trying to talk himself out of caring so much for this stranger. Besides, he was just another worker. But, somehow, deep down, in the loneliest part of him, Dean already considered Castiel a close friend. There was just something about his quiet mannerisms that made Dean feel comfortable, it made the other easy to work with. Although it was odd to develop a connection with another so quick, Dean didn't fight it, and simply accepted he wished to be friends with Castiel. Resolving he would go about helping the man he already considered a friend, Dean stood, hearing Castiel move in the kitchen. Hoping it would be a good time to enter, the green-eyed man pushed open the door to find Castiel washing his face in the kitchen basin.

"Howdy." He said, surprised his voice sounded completely normal considering the situation he just had outside.

Castiel turned and offered Dean a small smile, as if to mask his previous state, and dried his damp face in hopes his eyes didn't give away he had been crying. "Howdy." He responded, voice not as strong as Dean's.

Dean stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, not sure of what to say as he placed his hands in his pockets. Fingers brushing against a few folded up papers, he remembered what he had to give to Castiel, and pulled the documents from his jean pocket. "I got some recipes for you at the store. They're from Mrs. Wilke down at the general store, she figured they might be helpful starts for ya in ways of cooking."

Castiel stepped forward and took the papers, internally relieved he wouldn't have to fumble his way through a meal like he had this morning. "This'll help a lot, thank you, Dean." Castiel said sincerely, skimming the papers.

Dean looked outside as Castiel filtered through the small stack of papers, seeing the sun was just setting over the distant mountains. "Looks like it's almost supper time." He commented, watching as Castiel lifted his eyes to look out the window, a guilty expression coloring his face.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I should've fixed us some dinner this afternoon."

Dean shook his head to dismiss the comment, donning his hat once more in preparation to go back outside. "Don't blame yourself, I didn't think about it either. But, now that I am," he chuckled slightly as his stomach gave an auidble growl, "I'm mighty hungry." Pausing for a moment, Dean's eyes rested on the recipe stack in Castiel's hands. "Ya know, actually, I think I spotted a recipe for fried chicken in there. If you wouldn't mind makin' that, I would love to have some. I actually have a hen out back that should be perfect, she stopped producin' eggs a while ago, so she's good for slaughter."

Castiel felt his mouth water at the thought of fresh cooked chicken, and quickly filtered through the stack to find the card which had the coveted recipe on it. "Yeah, it's right here. I think I can manage it, which hen is it?"

"She's the only black one out there." Dean responded, eyes flicking around his kitchen. "There's some old bread you can use for the coating, and everything else I think you found this mornin'. I've gotta go bring in the cow and feed the horses, so I'll be back in a bit. You tell me if you ever get overwhelmed with the work I'm givin' you."

Castiel nodded, appreciative of the way Dean had handled his transition into the farm and how everything worked. "I will, but I think I should be fine." He reassured, earning him a smile before Dean exited the cabin.

Letting out a determined breath, Castiel set to work, reading the recipe to gather his ingredients. It didn't take long to find everything, and soon he had salt, pepper, bread crumbs, oil, and flour in front of him, along with a fire roaring in the belly of the stove. Feeling relieved that preparation had been easier than that morning, Castiel headed outside to the chicken coop, the fresh air feeling good in his lungs after crying. Watching the chickens peck around for a bit, he spotted the black hen and stepped inside the small enclosure, immediately finding the were chickens skittish.

"Damn it..." He muttered, walking slowly towards the black hen. Spotting Castiel, she ran away and flapped her wings in defense, causing the man to chase her with more vigor, which only made her more agitated.

"Come here you stupid bird!" Castiel said through his teeth in frustration after ten minutes of simply trying to catch the bird. He didn't recall it being this difficult to catch and slaughter a chicken.

Finally, in a last ditch effort to catch the difficult animal, he cornered it. "I've got you now." He muttered, lunging for it. However, the bird had other ideas and tried to flap away, which Castiel was having none of. "Oh no you don't!" He nearly shouted before jumping full force at the bird, landing in a pile of chicken feces. However, despite what he was laying in, the bird was successfully trapped in his arms. Standing and catching his breath, Castiel ignored the disgusting mess on his shirt and pants and carried the chicken to the slaughter block, frustration fueling his quick actions as he tied the squawking to the piece of wood. Taking the nearby axe, he put it over his head and drove it down on the avian's neck, it's head dropping off.

"Gotchya." Castiel said triumphantly, wiping his dusty and dirty face before untying the headless body of the bird from the block to pluck it.

Getting all the feathers from the body wasn't difficult, as Castiel had done it many times before. Before long, he found himself back in the kitchen, the chicken cleaned and chopped up for the meal. However, despite the meat being clean, he was not. Looking down at himself, Castiel noted the dirt and feces speckled about his clothing, and decided changing and cleaning up would be best before trying to cook a meal. Spotting the packages on the table, he hesitated, still unsure about taking Dean's clothes, but soon grabbed the parcel and opened it, knowing it was his only option. Selecting a simple, white cotton shirt, some blue jeans, and another blue bandana, Castiel headed outside to the water pump, setting the clothing beside him.

Looking around to ensure he was alone, Castiel stripped off the dirty shirt and dumped a full water pail over his head and his body, soaping up his torso above the jeans he had left on. Rinsing off, he shook his hair of the water and went back into his bedroom, changing quickly into the new clothes. The cleanliness of the garments felt good, and combined with the quick cleaning, caused him to feel refreshed before he had to finish the meal preparation. Staring at the ingredients, he read the card and shook his head to banished the memory of failure that morning. Following the steps carefully, he cracked the eggs into a bowl, determined not to mess this one up. Placing pepper and salt into the eggs, he whipped them with a fork and set them aside. Next, according to the recipe, he crushed up bread crumbs and set out flour, both tasks being easy and problem free. Feeling more comfortable in the kitchen with his success, Castiel created a process for himself: roll the chicken piece in flour, dip it into the egg, and finally coat it with breadcrumbs. Soon, the eight pieces of chicken were done, ready to be placed in the pan.

"Where are you..." Castiel muttered to himself, eyes darting around as he tried to remember where he had set the pan this morning. Spotting it near the wash basin, he grabbed the heavy cast iron and set it on the stove, heating some oil in it. Soon, the oil was crackling in the pan, signaling it's readiness, as the recipe has said. Placing the chicken in all at once, Castiel jumped back when the pieces instantly began to pop, the oil bubbling around them. Determined not to be put off by cooking chicken, Castiel stepped forward, spatula in hand, and tried to flip a piece, causing a searing droplet of oil to jump from the pan onto his arm. Cursing, he wiped the offending drop of fat off and tried flipping the chicken again, this time being quick about the action. It seemed to work, and soon he found a way to properly flip the meat, which was done in only a few minutes. Plating up the meal, Castiel felt pride well in his chest at what he had accomplished as he set the golden brown chicken pieces on the table, just in time for Dean to enter.

"Somethin' smells good." Dean commented, eying the meal on the table before his eyes traveled to Castiel. Spotting the new clothes on him, Dean felt relief in his chest, glad the clothes fit the other.

Castiel smiled proudly at the compliment, not seeing Dean's notice of his change of clothing. "Thank you, Dean." He replied, passing the other man a plate as they sat down. Watching carefully as Dean took a bite, Castiel's stomach knotted, hoping he had done alright.

"Wow." Dean proclaimed through the mouthful, a smile on his lips at the simple, satisfying meal. "This is delicious."

Castiel beamed and took his own bite, finding it was good. "Thank you." He said once more, taking another bite as he realized just how hungry he was.

After a few minutes, Dean found himself working through his third piece, and looked up to Castiel. "Did you have any trouble gettin' this together?"

Castiel paused for a moment, thinking about the difficult time he had in the chicken coop. "No," he lied, not wanting to seem foolish, "everything went fine."

Dean smiled. "That's good, I was hopin' so."

The meal was soon over, the chicken bones the only think uneaten. Standing, Castiel cleared both their places and headed to the wash basin.

"Here, let me help ya with that." Dean said, standing .

"That's alright, I can get it." Castiel quickly replied, not wanting to place more work on Dean's shoulders.

"Nah," Dean started, lighting two of the three lanterns in the room as darkness fell, "I'll help. Besides, I don't have anything else to be doing. You wash, I'll dry."

Castiel hesitated for a second, but gave in, turning towards the dishes as the soft glow of the lanterns flooded the room. Handing Dean a washed plate, he enjoyed the silent help beside him, a content peace settling over him in the normal, domestic task. After a while, Castiel found himself washing the last dish. Clearing his throat through the silence, he thought out how to express the gratitude he felt towards Dean. "I just wanted to thank ya." He said softly, handing over the heavy pan. "You've been real hospitable these past few days, and with my circumstances, you've helped me more than anyone should."

"Well it's no problem, besides, I needed someone to help me out." Dean replied, appreciating how much humility the thanks must've taken the other man, as self reliance was obviously important to him. "You've earned your place so far. So, thank you too." He finished, voice softening ever so slightly.

Castiel felt relief go through him at Dean's understanding gratefulness, knowing now the green-eyed man acknowledged he was trying his best. Peace going through him for the first time in days, Castiel reached for the wash rag to wash the counters. "Here, I'll take care of the rest."

At Castiel's words, Dean shook his head and reached for the towel at the same time. "No, that's alright I'll ge-" He started, words instantly stopped when he found his hand directly on top of Castiel's. Looking up in embarrassment, he met the blue eyes of the other man, finding them looking as panicked and confused as he felt.

Castiel felt Dean's hand lay on his and instantly snapped his head up, feeling an unidentified rush go through him when his eyes met the other's. After a moment, he felt an embarrassed and confused flush run up his neck at his delayed reaction, at their close proximity, and pulled his hand away. "It's really alright, I'll get it." He said quickly, clearing his throat as he turned to the counters.

Dean, panicked and utterly humiliated by the strange reaction he had over the simple mistake, decided to let Castiel finish up cleaning and exited out the back door. Walking quickly, he soon found himself out near the trees at the back of his property, and sat beneath one, the night air around him cool and refreshing. Not sure what had just happened, Dean ran a hand over his face. Having that simple contact with Castiel, the simple glance into his eyes, it had caused a rush of what almost felt like love to go through Dean. But, no, of course that couldn't be it... He had just been lonely for too long and was perceiving his emotions all wrong, besides, he was a man, and men didn't_ love_ other men. Sighing, Dean leaned his head back onto the rough bark of the tree and looked up at the stars, hoping by the morning the uncomfortable incident would be forgotten. 

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**((Hey guys. :) I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter! I have been buried in schoolwork these past few weeks, and haven't had any time to write. However, I'll try my best from now on to update every week, usually every Saturday or Sunday. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please don't forget to review! Thanks for reading!))**


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